


Spirit of Christmas

by ennedepaix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, HP: EWE, M/M, dialogue-heavy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-28
Updated: 2012-03-28
Packaged: 2017-11-02 15:26:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/370505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ennedepaix/pseuds/ennedepaix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘Twas the night before Christmas Eve and Draco has flu. What happens next, though he cannot understand it entirely, may have a big effect on his life. If only he’ll let three spirits drag him around all night.<br/>First written/posted December 2008.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spirit of Christmas

December 23rd 

Harry stepped into the living room and saw that Draco was having trouble keeping his eyes open. He was curled up in an armchair, in pyjamas and a dressing gown, wrapped in a blanket. A quickly running-out box of tissues was by his side. He gave a rather large sneeze.

“Bless you. Again,” Harry said, crossing to Draco’s armchair and passing him a mug of tea.

“Thanks,” Draco croaked. Harry perched on the arm of the chair and pressed his hand to Draco’s forehead, giving a sigh as he did so.

“Your temperature hasn’t improved. Looks like you’re going to have a reason for missing Christmas this year, apart from just being a Scrooge,” Harry said, trying to sound light-hearted but not particularly succeeding. Draco closed his eyes and murmured, 

“Harry, please, don’t start this again. I can’t help how I feel about Christmas.”

“I know. It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. I know it upsets you but I don’t think it’s any better to pretend. Either way, I’m not really in the mood for discussing it at the moment.”

“Yeah, of course. Sorry.” Harry paused and Draco took a sip of his tea. “Draco?”

“Yes?”

“I got you that potion from the apothecary. It’ll knock you out completely but it’s meant to do wonders overnight. Do you want to try it?”

“Anything that’ll help me sleep, I’ll gladly swallow a gallon of.”

Harry fished the vial out of his jeans pocket and placed it on the table by Draco’s side. “Take the whole vial. It only takes a couple of minutes to work so wait until you’re actually in bed to take it, okay?”

“Yes. Thank you for getting it.”

“It’s no problem.”

“Thank you for looking after me, Harry.”

Harry smiled. “I’m your boyfriend. It’s my job.”

Draco looked up at Harry and gave a small smile. “I just wanted you to know I appreciate it,” he said. He held his hand out and Harry took it in his own, raising it to his lips and kissing his knuckles gently. 

******** 

Later that evening, leaving his partner downstairs wrapping presents for his godchildren, Draco wearily climbed the stairs, giving a hacking cough as he got to the bedroom. 

“Please let this potion work,” he said into thin air as he settled into bed. He downed the potion, turned out the lights and was asleep within minutes.

******** 

“Psst! Draco, wake up,” someone whispered. Draco groaned.

“Go away.”

“Wake up, Draco, now.”

Draco reluctantly opened his eyes and saw an elderly man leaning over him. Draco flew into a sitting position. “Who are you?!” he exclaimed. He grabbed his wand and then recognised the face in front of him. “Granddad?”

“Oh, is that who I am? I never get to choose what form I take. I look like your granddad, but I’m not him. I’m a spirit.”

“Oh. Am I awake? Or is this a dream?”

“Hard to tell, isn’t it?” the spirit said lightly. Draco rolled his eyes.

“Well, that’s useful.”

“Anyway, Draco, I’ve been sent to take you on a journey. I’m the Spirit of Christmas Past.”

Draco raised an eyebrow and said, “Oh really? Just so as you know, I don’t have an assistant called Bob Cratchit or a dead ex-business partner called Marley.”

The spirit sighed. “Nobody takes us seriously anymore. Ever since that pesky Dickens fellow wrote about us, nobody believes we’re real. It makes our job that little bit more difficult, you know.”

Draco closed his eyes, shaking his head and deciding it was probably easiest not to bother asking for any elaboration on that. “Why are you here?” he asked instead. “I’m not a miserly misanthrope like Scrooge. I just don’t like Christmas.”

“We – the Spirits, that is – have decided you are missing out. You need to examine your reasons for disliking Christmas. You need to ask yourself if they’re covering up deeper feelings, you see? You don’t deserve to miss out on Christmas, Draco.”

“I don’t deserve to miss out on sleep when I’ve got the flu but that didn’t stop you waking me up, did it?”

“Oh, have you got flu? You poor dear. I do hope you don’t give it to me.”

“Spirits get flu?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never had it before but one can never be too careful. This is my busiest time of year, would you believe?”

“Is it? I would have thought Valentine’s Day would be busy for the Spirit of Christmas Past. I thought you’d be on your holidays in December.”

“No. Surprising, isn’t it?” the spirit said, sounding completely earnest. “Come on. The quicker you come with me, the quicker you can rest again.” The spirit held out a hand. Draco cast a glance at Harry, beside him, sleeping soundly. “Oooh, he’s a bit of a dish,” the spirit said, following Draco’s gaze. Draco turned back sharply and said, 

“That is not a sentence I ever want to hear coming out of my grandfather’s mouth, thank you very much. What are the odds your natural form is a middle-aged woman?” Draco glanced at the still outstretched hand and sighed. “What am I meant to do if he wakes up and I’m not here? How do I explain that?”

“Oh, don’t worry. As soon as you take my hand, time will pause here. It’ll be like you never left.”

“Why am I doing this?” Draco asked himself as he took the spirit’s hand and found himself standing in his bedroom at Malfoy Manor. “Why did you bring me here?” he asked angrily. “I swore I’d never come back here.”

“Well, technically, this is twenty-eight years ago so I don’t think you’ve broken any oath.”

Draco was about to retort when he saw his five year old self sitting up in bed, grinning to himself. “Oh my god,” Draco murmured. “That’s me. Can I see me?”

“No, he can’t see or hear you. This is just your memory, Draco, from a different angle.”

“I look so happy,” Draco said confusedly. “I don’t remember being that happy in this house.”

Suddenly the bedroom door flew open and a man swooped in, bellowing, “Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!”

Draco’s younger self squealed excitedly, standing up so he could jump up and down on the bed. “Granddad!” he shouted as the man picked him up and swung him up to sit on his shoulders. “Merry Christmas, Granddad!”

“Come along, child, we must be away to my Christmas castle!” With that they Disapparated, the noise of it making Draco start. He stared at the now empty and silent room. 

“That… That was the last Christmas I spent with him,” he murmured.

“What happened?” the spirit asked gently.

“He died. Heart attack the following summer.”

“I’m sorry.”

Draco shrugged, dashing tears from his face with his hand. “Long time ago.”

“You seem to like Christmas in this memory.”

“I was five years old.”

“But if your grandfather had stayed alive for a few more years, would you have continued to celebrate Christmas with him?” the spirit asked.

“Yes, I imagine so,” Draco admitted. “He didn’t stay alive, though, so what does it matter?”

“It matters because I think you would enjoy Christmas. You did once. Why can’t you again?”

“You’re basing this on a memory from when I was five years old. I’m thirty-three now. Things change. I’ve grown up.”

“So do you think all grown-ups who enjoy and celebrate Christmas are being immature? Do you think Harry is being immature?”

“No, of course not.”

“Do you ever wonder if you’re a hypocrite, Draco?” the spirit asked with a sigh. Before Draco had chance to reply, the spirit grabbed his hand and they were transported to Hogwarts. Draco found himself in the Slytherin common room and saw his sixteen year old self sitting curled up in an armchair, watching the flames dance in the hearth. He watched Pansy walk over and perch on the arm of his chair.

“Are you sure you won’t come to my house for the holidays, Draco?” she asked. The teenaged Draco nodded.

“I’ll be fine here, Pansy, thank you. I don’t really like Christmas.”

“Your parents don’t like Christmas, you mean. I think you do. I think you would if you were allowed to celebrate it.”

The teenaged Draco sighed. “Pansy, I know you mean well but I don’t really want to have a big discussion about the fact that I’m not allowed a Christmas at my own home. I don’t need to rehash the fact that my parents hate me. I’m fully aware of it already.”

“Oh, Draco,” Pansy whispered, running her hand over his arm.

“Please, Pansy. I don’t want to do this. Just go. You’ll be late. Go home to your nice family and have a nice Christmas. I’ll be fine here.”

Pansy seemed to sag, realising that there was little she could do; she knew it went a lot deeper than Christmas and she didn’t know where to start trying to help Draco. She hated his parents, hated how they had ruined their son’s life before he’d even finished school. She resolved to be the best friend she could to him; no matter what. She pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“I’ll see you soon, then. I’ll write to you.”

“That’d be nice, Pansy. Thank you.”

Pansy left and once she had been gone for a few minutes, Draco saw his younger self start to cry.

“Why are you crying, Draco?” the spirit asked.

“Because I know I don’t deserve Christmas. It’s for people with loved ones. It’s for sharing with people who love you and nobody loved me.”

“It looked like Pansy did,” the spirit said. Draco didn’t respond. “Why do you think you don’t deserve Christmas?”

“I’m not a good person.”

“If that were true, would Harry love you more than he loves anybody else?”

Draco pressed a hand to his forehead and whispered brokenly, “Please stop this.”

“Stop what, Draco?”

“Stop trying to convince me I’m a good person. Stop trying to convince me I deserve anything good or nice. I already know I don’t deserve Harry’s love. People tell me so often enough.”

“And you don’t argue back? Defend yourself?”

“No. There’s no use. Who’s to say they’re wrong anyway?”

“Harry.”

“Harry… Yes, I know.”

“You can’t reconcile your thoughts, can you?” the spirit questioned. Draco didn’t have an answer and he closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, he was sitting on his bed again, Harry still sleeping a foot or so away. “You know, Draco Malfoy, I’m worried about you,” the spirit said.

“Why so?”

“I’m worried that, for the first time, we won’t be able to change someone’s mind.”

“Sorry to ruin your track record, then,” Draco snapped.

“I don’t care about that. I care about what you’re missing out on. I care about what - **who** \- you’re pushing away.” The spirit looked at Harry and Draco insisted,

“I’m not pushing him away. What’s so bad about spending one day apart? It’s not as if it can affect him that much.”

“Does he know what you do on Christmas Day? If he knew, that would affect him.”

“He thinks I work,” Draco admitted.

“You won’t tell him the truth?”

“No. I’m not going to intentionally upset him. It’s not important.”

“He’d disagree. It’s not my business, anyway. I’m intruding on the next visitor’s territory. Time for the shift change, Draco. I hope you have a nice Christmas.”

“Wait, who’s the next visitor?”

The spirit smiled. “I think you already know.” With that, the spirit left the room. Draco was left in a room silent bar Harry’s deep and even breathing. He laid down and as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was yanked from the bed, landing sprawled in a mess on the floor.

“What the fuck?”

“Language!” a shrill voice exclaimed. Draco heard the toilet in the en-suite flush and the door opened to reveal a woman of about sixty years who, from her demeanour, looked like she would be much more comfortable in a drill sergeant’s uniform that the plain, well-tailored robes she was wearing. “Evening, young man. I hope you don’t mind, but I made use of your facilities.”

“Well, as long as you washed your hands,” Draco responded. “Let me guess, Christmas present?”

“Do I look like I’ve come gift-wrapped?” the woman asked, frowning. Draco rolled his eyes.

“For the love of… Not present as in gift, present as in… present tense, current, ongoing. The Spirits of Past, Present and Future? Does your job title ring a bell, dear?”

“Stop being facetious and give me a bit of room for manoeuvre, would you? I’m going through the Change and I’m a little bit out of sorts.”

“I really didn’t need to know that,” Draco commented. 

“Oh, I’m over-sharing, aren’t I? I blame the Change, to be honest. It’s not as annoying as those bloody hot flushes though. My word-”

“You’re still talking about it!” Draco interrupted. 

“So I am. Right, well, let’s see,” the woman said, pulling a scroll of parchment from her pocket and looking over it while muttering to herself, “Draco Malfoy… Harry is his partner… Burrow… Weasleys… Lonely, weeping blond… Right.” She turned to Draco and held out a hand. “Up you get.”

Draco took her hand and, once on his feet, found himself in the Weasleys’ dining room on Christmas Day. It was evening. The children were all in bed and the adults were all chatting amiably over drinks at the dining table. Draco’s attention was drawn quickly to Harry. He had a smile on his face but Draco could see it was for show; it didn’t reach his eyes. He didn’t contribute to the conversation.

“Harry?” he said, for a moment forgetting nobody could see or hear him. He turned to the spirit beside him. “What’s wrong with Harry? I thought he loved Christmas with the Weasleys.”

“He does. He doesn’t love being the only person at the table without a partner.”

“He has a partner,” Draco said. “I’m his partner.”

“Yes, but you’re not there, are you? I think he finds it worse having a partner who refuses to join him than he would not having a partner at all.”

“Are you saying he would rather be alone than be with me?” Draco asked, anger tinting the tone of his voice.

“No. He loves you. I’m saying he finds it difficult at Christmas. He doesn’t like having to explain to everyone that his partner still refuses to celebrate Christmas with him. Nobody knows what to make of it.”

“They see me throughout the year. What does it matter if I’m not there one day out of a whole year?”

“It matters because to everyone except you, it’s the one day that represents love and family and togetherness.”

“He’s with people he loves.”

“But he’s not with you and you’re the one he loves most.”

“So your colleague said.”

The spirit slapped Draco on the back of the head. “Would you stop being so bloody self-pitying? It’s not attractive, you know? A healthy level of self-deprecation? That, I approve of. Whining that you aren’t good enough for a man who clearly adores you? It’s boring after a while.”

Draco was taken aback but eventually managed to ask, “Hormone surge, was it?”

She slapped him again and pointed to Harry. “Look at him! Does he look contented?”

“He looks okay,” Draco said, clearly lying, in a whisper.

“He looks, and **is** , lonely. On Christmas Day. And he’s not the only one.” With those words, they were back in Draco and Harry’s house, in Draco’s study. Draco was sitting at his desk in the dark, crying quietly but steadily.

“That would be the ‘weeping blond’, then,” Draco quipped weakly.

“Hmm. You don’t look too contented.”

“I allow myself Christmas Day to immerse myself in sadness at the fact that my parents wish they never had me. Is that all right with you?”

“It just doesn’t make any sense. You can’t save up sadness for one day like that. It’s not healthy. You should be talking about it whenever you happen to be sad about it.”

“And who would I talk to? Myself? I’m not that mad. Not yet.”

“Men are insufferable!” the spirit exclaimed. She began to speak very loudly and clearly and right in Draco’s face, “Talk. To. Harry. You. Big. Daft. Tit.”

“You’re quite rude,” Draco said with a raised eyebrow. “I think I like you.”

The spirit sighed. “Listen to me: You are an utter mess on Christmas Day and – hateful parents or not – you’ve made it that way yourself. Harry is not as happy as he should be on Christmas Day and you’ve made it that way for him. If only there was a way for you to get some comfort and for him to get his partner on Christmas Day. I simply can’t imagine how this situation could be resolved.” She was standing with a hand on one cocked hip, the other hand pressed against her head and Draco looked at her askance.

“I feel that you have turned sarcasm into a physical form. Well done.”

“You are a pain in the arse.”

“Indeed,” Draco drawled. 

“It’s a cover, isn’t it? You don’t want to admit I’m right and that you and your other half are suffering needlessly.”

Draco swallowed then whispered, “Indeed.”

They stood in silence for a few moments, watching Draco cry, before the spirit murmured, “I don’t have an awful lot to show you, what with you not actually doing Christmas.”

“Is the next spirit going through the menopause, too?” Draco asked. “I really don’t think I could cope.”

“No, but he might be in the depths of a mid-life crisis.”

“Great.”

Draco bounced slightly as he was dumped on his bed. He watched the spirit leave the room via the bathroom, crossing paths with a very tall apparition, completely covered by a hideous, mouldy, grey shroud of a robe. Draco looked somewhere above the level of its neck and found a gaping black hole, rather than the traditional eyes, ears, mouth, nose, chin, etcetera of an average face. The two spirits greeted each other with air-kisses and the drill-sergeant asked,

“What’s your tactic? Because, I tell you, this one is stubborn.”

“I think a short, sharp shock is required.”

“Good luck.”

The shrouded figure floated into the room and stood, looming over Draco. Draco eyed the third spirit and said, “You know, in that delightful shroud, you look like one of those wraiths from those Muggle films and books Harry likes. Do you even have a face?”

The spirit huffed and shoved the shroud away from his face, revealing a man who looked suspiciously like Michael Caine. “Look, I’ve just been in a Russian winter. It was short-notice and this was the warmest thing I could find. All right?”

“Whatever you say.”

“Come on, let’s get a move on. I want to get home.”

“Need to report back to Sauron?” Draco asked with an ‘understanding’ smile. Michael Caine rolled his eyes.

“I already don’t like you.”

Draco smiled. “I have that effect on people.” When Michael didn’t say anything, Draco had time to notice they were now standing in his kitchen. “Why are we still at my house?”

“Because there’s something you need to see. This is six years from now, by the way.”

Draco was about to ask something else when he heard laughter and varied chattering coming from his living room. Then Harry came into the kitchen, a faceless man following him and saying, in an entirely average voice which Draco instantly hated, “They all seem to be having a nice time.”

“Yeah, I suppose,” Harry replied.

“What’s up? I thought you liked having a party for Christmas.”

“I do. I just… I hoped for a better turnout, that’s all.”

“Harry, thirty-nine of the forty-two people you invited are in there. The other three are ill. Who could you possibly be missing?”

Harry smiled blankly, thinking of that forty-third invitation he had sent out. “You’re right. I’m not missing anyone.”

Draco watched as the faceless man – who was wearing a Santa hat, which screeched ‘ho, ho, ho!’ when you squeezed the pom-pom on the end; really, it was crass beyond words – wrapped his arm around Harry’s waist and kissed his cheek. Harry was smiling, looking happy but, to Draco’s eyes, slightly uncomfortable; not entirely at ease.

“Who is that man?” Draco demanded. “And what the fuck is he doing touching Harry? What is he doing in our house at all?”

“You don’t live there anymore, Draco. The man is touching Harry because he is your replacement.”

“My **what?** ”

“Harry couldn’t take it anymore. He left you.”

“Because of Christmas?” Draco questioned incredulously.

“Not entirely. Harry started to realise that you were lying about your reasons for shunning Christmas. He wanted to know the truth and you wouldn’t tell him. He thought you didn’t trust him and you didn’t do anything to prove him wrong. He couldn’t be with someone who didn’t trust him. So, no, it’s not because of Christmas as such. That was just the starting point.”

“But I do trust him. He knows that. He knows, he does!”

“Why are you getting so agitated, Draco?” the spirit asked, annoyingly calm.

“Because you’ve brought me to **my** house to watch **my** lover get groped by some… some **plebeian** and then told me it’s my fault it’s going on! You fucking arsehole!”

The spirit brushed a piece of lint from his heavy shroud and said, “Have you seen Harry’s face?”

“What? Yes, of course.”

“I know he’s smiling but… Do you think he looks truly happy?”

Draco stared at Harry’s face and murmured, “No.”

“Explain to me how you know.”

“When… When Harry’s with me and smiling and truly happy, he looks at me like he can’t see anyone else, can’t think about anything else, doesn’t even know anything else exists. Now, with that little slag, Harry looks like he wants to think about anything except the slobbering, sycophantic mess attached to his arm. He looks like he’s missing something.”

“What might that something be?”

“I might be able to read Harry very well but that doesn’t make me psychic,” Draco snapped. As he spoke, he realised they had moved. They were now in a small living room; plain but cosy enough. One lamp was on in the room, dimly illuminating a slip of a man in an armchair. “Oh my goodness… That can’t be me. I look like I’ve turned into an anorexic.”

“Not quite. After all, the amount of alcohol you consume has a fair amount of calories.”

“I’m a drunk?” Draco questioned, his voice becoming shrill.

“You didn’t take it well when Harry told you it was over. You tried to kill yourself but got scared so, instead, you’re attempting a slow suicide by drink and malnutrition. It’s pathetic, really.”

“What made you bring me here? Why do I need to see this?”

“You said you weren’t a psychic. I’m showing you the answer to my question.”

“Question?”

“What Harry’s missing.”

“You mean… me?”

“Yes, you idiot.”

It said something about Draco’s current emotional state that he didn’t react to being called an idiot. He noticed the invitation Draco had sitting in his lap. That was Harry’s atrocious hand-writing on the front. “Well… It’s his fault. He shouldn’t have left me. Then he wouldn’t miss me.”

“Draco, just because it wasn’t a good thing for Harry when he ended your relationship… that doesn’t mean it was a wrong thing. He couldn’t trust you, no matter how much he loved you or loves you still.”

“I don’t want to end up like this,” Draco said, sounding panicked. “I don’t. Tell me what to do! I **can’t** end up like this; I can’t live without Harry. Please tell me how to stop this.”

“I think you know what to do, Draco. This can be fixed.”

Draco felt at a loss. He spotted himself pouring another drink and frowned at the label on the bottle, inexplicably upset about what he saw, suddenly shouting, 

“I don’t even like gin!”

“Things change, Draco. Even your taste.”

“I don’t want things to change.”

“I know. Come along, it’s time to go home.”

“Do I still have one?” Draco asked sadly.

“Yes, I’m the Spirit of Christmas **Future** , you twit. Keep up!”

That was the last Draco heard from that peculiar shrouded man. He was once again in his bedroom, Harry beside him. He got into bed, his hands shaking as he lifted the covers. He felt tears welling in his eyes and tried to keep quiet as he shuffled over to Harry’s side of the bed and draped his arm across the man’s stomach. 

“Please, Harry, don’t leave me. I’ll be better, I promise. Give me a chance. Don’t leave,” Draco whispered. He turned his head, pressing his lips to Harry’s shoulder. “Please.”

******* 

Draco woke up with a start and looked around the bedroom confusedly. His eyes fell on the clock, noting it was just gone ten o’ clock. He sat up just as Harry wandered into the room with a smile.

“You’re awake. How are you feeling? Better?”

“Yes. Quite a bit. Did I sleep right through, last night?”

“I should think so. I came up about three hours after you and walked into the chest of drawers. I made quite a racket, swore a lot because I stubbed my toe. You didn’t even stir. You were dead to the world. Then, this morning, I had to peel you off me so I could get up and you didn’t twitch.”

“I didn’t get up at all, then?”

“Not that I noticed. If you did, you were very quiet.”

“I wasn’t talking to anyone, shouting about gin?”

Harry looked rather, understandably, confused. “Gin? No, Draco. What on earth is in that potion?”

Draco ignored the question and asked, “What day is it?”

Harry frowned. “Christmas Eve. Or, sorry, the twenty-fourth of December.”

“I didn’t miss it,” Draco muttered to himself. He suddenly threw the covers back and jumped out of bed, crossing to the wardrobe and grabbing some clothes. He stripped off his pyjamas and used a quick cleansing spell as he didn’t want to waste time in the shower. He threw on his clothes and said, “I’ve got to go out for a bit. I’ll be back in a few hours.” 

“Where would Scrooge be going on Christmas Eve?” Harry asked with a smile.

“Stop calling me that!” Draco snapped.

“What?” Harry asked, the smile gone from his face.

“I don’t like it when you call me a Scrooge! I just put up with it because I felt like I was depriving you at Christmas and that it was fair. But it’s not fair. I have my reasons for how I feel about Christmas, Harry. I’m not, and never have been, a Scrooge. Do you know whenever you call me that, you’re not just calling me someone who doesn’t like Christmas? You’re calling me cold-hearted, unfeeling, mean-fisted, unscrupulous, unloving **and unloved**.”

Harry was shocked. “Draco, I never meant-”

Draco cut him off, “I have never denied anybody their Christmas. I have never said you couldn’t go and have Christmas with people who enjoy it. I have never said you can’t have a tree up in our house. I have never said I think other people are stupid for celebrating Christmas. I just didn’t celebrate it myself.”

“Draco, what’s the matter with you? Look, I’m sorry about calling you Scr-… calling you that but I never meant it in a horrible way.”

“I know you never mean for it to be horrible but… I’m just telling you how it makes me feel. It’s as if all the things we do with each other every month, all the time we spend together, the time I spend with you at the Weasleys’ **for you** , the little presents I buy you for no reason, the love we share… It’s as if that doesn’t matter because there’s one fucking day a year we don’t spend together. Not doing Christmas doesn’t make me a bad person, Harry, so stop implying that it does.”

“I’ve never implied that!”

“Not intentionally but that doesn’t mean you haven’t.”

They stared at each other for a moment before Harry spoke, “Draco… I don’t know what to say.”

Draco swallowed. “Where’s your Pensieve?” he asked quietly.

“Do you want it?” Harry asked. Draco nodded. Harry left the room and came back a moment later with the Pensieve, setting it carefully on top of the chest of drawers. Draco pulled his wand out of his pocket.

“It’s from last night. Remind me to put it back in my head later. It’s a memory I want,” he said. Harry nodded. Draco raised his wand and pulled the strand of memory from his head, carefully depositing it into the swirling mass of the Pensieve. Afterwards he said hesitantly, “I don’t know if it was a dream or a hallucination or if it really happened. It was bizarre but… I don’t know. Just watch it while I’m out, will you?”

“Okay.”

***** 

Four and a half hours later, Draco unlocked the front door of his house, the pockets of his coat full of shrunken packages. He shut the door, throwing his keys onto the sidetable and running a hand through his hair. 

“Draco?” a call came from the living room. Draco looked in to see Harry sitting in an armchair, with just one lamp and the lights from the Christmas tree illuminating the room in the fading afternoon light. Draco crossed to stand a few feet away from him and they stared at each other, neither knowing what to say. Eventually, Harry cleared his throat and said, “You know, something you said earlier really got to me.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“You said that when I call you Scrooge, I’m calling you unloved. I would never want to make you feel… unloved. Never.”

“I know. It’s not so far from the truth, though. You’re the only person in the world who does love me and, truth be told, I don’t even know how you manage to do it.”

“Is that how you feel?” Harry asked, feeling his chest clench with emotion. Draco shrugged.

“It’s nothing to do with how I feel. It’s just the truth.”

“No, it isn’t. I don’t think Pansy would be very happy if she knew you thought she and her kids didn’t love you.”

“Okay. Four people, then.”

“Draco, there are a lot of people who care about you. Love? I don’t know, I can’t speak for them in that way, but I know they care about you. You have friends and colleagues and godchildren and they all care about you.”

Draco turned his head away from Harry and, when he turned back after a moment, Harry saw tears in his eyes. “There are two people who should care about me, though, aren’t there? They don’t. My parents don’t care about me, Harry. They don’t love me. They don’t like me. In fact, they hate me! They’re my family and they don’t give a shit what happens to me! And I know it’s not fair to talk to you about this but… at least you know your parents loved you, Harry.”

“Oh, Draco… I’m sorry,” Harry murmured. He wrapped his arms around Draco and pulled him close. Draco had never spoken about his parents in this way to Harry. He had always been flippant if ever they were mentioned. He had never admitted that the lack of love in his childhood had been so acute or that it had affected him so much. “You never told me, you know? You never told me these things before. You should have told me, love.”

“I try not to think about it,” Draco whispered. “Christmas makes me think about it.”

“I know. It makes sense now. I watched your memory from last night and… I had no idea. I made all the wrong assumptions about certain parts of your life, Draco, and I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I’m sorry, regardless. I’m so sorry about your grandfather.”

Draco swallowed a sob and took a shaky breath, whispering, “Thank you.”

“Do you know why I still push you about Christmas?” Harry asked.

“Because you love it.”

“No, Draco. It’s because I didn’t understand why you would deny yourself a day where your only obligation is to yourself and your loved ones. I try and get you to do Christmas for you, not me.” Harry suddenly pulled away from their embrace, putting his hands firmly on Draco’s shoulders and looking into his eyes. “You never have to worry that I’ll leave you, Draco, do you understand? I especially wouldn’t leave you because of, as you said, ‘one fucking day a year’. What happened in your dream will not happen in real life. I promise.”

Draco looked at the floor. “You shouldn’t promise things like that.”

“Why not? It’s a promise that’s easy to keep,” Harry said softly. He put his fingers under Draco’s chin, gently making the man look up at him. “I love you, Draco, more than anyone else. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Harry.”

“Mmm?”

“You’re too good to me,” Draco whispered. Harry shook his head with a smile.

“I think we’re pretty well-matched, love.”

Draco wasn’t sure how to reply to that, to Harry’s loving tone and gentle words. He leant in for a soft kiss, taking Harry’s face between his hands. After a moment, he pulled back and murmured, “I’m sorry I shouted at you this morning.”

“Don’t apologise for that. You needed to do it.”

Draco stared at Harry, realising he needed something else, too. He shrugged off his coat, tossing it onto an armchair before joining his lips to Harry’s in a passionate and deep kiss. He slid one arm around Harry’s neck and tangled his fingers in the man’s hair. Harry gave a moan and wrapped his arms tightly around Draco’s slim waist. Draco sank to his knees, pulling Harry with him. The kiss continued to deepen and Draco quickly undid Harry’s jeans, palming Harry’s burgeoning erection lightly. Harry gasped, hips bucking into Draco’s as he went for the fastening on Draco’s trousers. Draco pressed himself against Harry’s solid chest and quickly jerked Harry’s jeans and underwear down past his buttocks. Harry did the same to Draco’s and relished the sound of the needy moan Draco released when their cocks pressed together. Draco let Harry push him to the floor, willingly laying on his back and spreading his thighs for his partner. Harry didn’t take long to establish a steady rhythm, rocking his hips as Draco arched his. Harry groaned deeply as Draco grabbed hold of his buttocks, trying to force him to press harder. Draco broke away from the kiss abruptly, instead burying his face in Harry’s neck, constantly murmuring his lover’s name. Harry allowed himself to increase the speed of his movements and it was clear Draco didn’t want this to be drawn out. He forced a hand between their bodies, grasping at their erections, stroking as fast and as best he could in the tiny gap between them. Harry’s movements became erratic and he cried out when Draco bit his neck, muffling a loud cry as he reached orgasm. Harry followed almost instantly, coming with a shout of Draco’s name.

Harry leant his head on Draco’s shoulder as they both panted with exertion. “Oh god, Draco…” Harry murmured. After a moment, he rolled onto his side next to Draco and slung an arm across Draco’s heaving chest. Draco turned over to face him, kissing him softly.

“I love you,” he then murmured.

“I love you, too.”

They laid together in silence for a few minutes until Harry suddenly sat up and cast a cleansing spell over both of them. He dragged himself to his feet and tidied his clothes. “Harry?” Draco said, sitting up. 

“I’m going to go to the Weasleys’ for a bit and explain why I won’t be going to their party tonight and why I might not be there tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“Draco… We need a few hours to talk. I need you to talk to me about some of the things I saw in that memory of yours. I need…” Harry trailed off and closed his eyes for a moment. Draco stood up and placed a hand on Harry’s neck, murmuring, 

“What do you need, Harry?”

“I need you, Draco. I need all of you.”

Harry opened his eyes and stared at Draco. Draco nodded and kissed him quickly. “You won’t be long?” 

“Half an hour at the most, I should think,” Harry said. He planted a firm kiss on Draco’s forehead and Disapparated. Draco didn’t know what to do with himself now. He fastened his trousers and set his shirt to rights before picking up his coat and sitting down. He emptied the pockets and then enlarged all the packages, leaving a decent pile in front of him. He started a spell before setting his wand on the arm of his chair and watching as all his purchases began wrapping themselves in heavily embossed blue paper and white ribbon. Once they were all neatly wrapped, he shrunk them again, slipping them back into his coat pockets. He relaxed into the armchair, covering his face with his hands and taking a deep breath. He had intended to get up after a moment and perhaps make a pot of tea but the next thing he knew, Harry was shaking his shoulder. “Draco? Wake up, love.”

Draco stirred, opening his eyes and frowning when he saw Harry. “You were quick.”

“I was longer than I said. I was forty minutes.”

“Oh. I must have fallen asleep. How were they?”

“Fine. They understood. Got a bit of flak about a certain bite-mark on my neck,” Harry commented with a smile. Draco returned the smile.

“Sorry about that.”

Harry chuckled. “You don’t look it. Do you want to go to bed and go back to sleep for a while? You look tired,” Harry said, stroking Draco’s cheek. Draco hesitated to reply but turned his face into Harry’s hand and eventually murmured,

“I want to go to bed. I don’t want to go to sleep.”

He met Harry’s eyes and found the man smiling. Harry nodded and took Draco’s hand.

****** 

Two hours later and Harry was in bed, finding himself to be pleasantly sore. He hadn’t bottomed in a while and was now wondering why that had been. He smiled to himself as he ran his fingers through Draco’s hair. They were laying together, facing each other on their sides and Draco smiled, almost shyly, at Harry’s attention.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Harry asked. Draco felt a blush rise on his cheeks.

“It’s been ages since we’ve… that way round.”

Harry chuckled. “Don’t worry. You’ve not forgotten what to do.”

Draco looked down at the pillow as he laughed. He felt Harry drop a kiss onto the top of his head and looked up at him. “It was… nice, wasn’t it?”

“More than nice,” Harry confirmed. “Wonderful.”

They shared a long, deep kiss before Draco, unwillingly, said, “You said we needed to talk.”

“Mmm, I did. I’m not sure if now is the right time, though. I do want to talk about what I saw but… Not now. There’s only one thing I care about asking you at this moment.”

“Which is?”

“In that memory, you said people tell you often that you don’t deserve me. Is that true?” Harry asked, his tone gentle. Draco closed his eyes as he replied, 

“Yes. It doesn’t matter, Harry, I’m used to it.”

“It fucking does matter, Draco,” Harry said firmly. Draco was shocked by the strength and forcefulness of Harry’s words. He opened his eyes, looking straight into Harry’s fervent gaze. “If anyone ever says a word to you that even implies that you aren’t good enough for me, you will tell me straight away and I will make them sorry they ever had the nerve to speak to you at all.”

“Harry…”

“I am serious. I don’t care if it’s a stranger on the street or one of the Weasleys. Nobody talks like that about the man I love, do you understand?”

“I… Yes, I understand.”

“Promise me you’ll tell me,” Harry entreated. Draco nodded.

“I promise,” he said. Harry kissed him briefly but Draco caught the back of Harry’s head in his hand and pulled him into a passionate kiss, rolling onto his back and urging Harry atop him. “Show me you love me, Harry,” Draco murmured against Harry’s lips before quickly returning the passion to their embrace. Harry didn’t find that difficult to do.

******* 

They spent most of the evening in bed. Harry got up at one point to bring food upstairs but, further than that, they never let the bed get cold. Well, actually, there was one other instance but Harry didn’t notice it. While Harry was asleep, Draco tiptoed downstairs and made some changes to the living room; more specifically, he made some changes to how many presents were under the tree.

The following morning, Harry was first to awake. He dropped a kiss onto Draco’s forehead before pulling on his pyjama bottoms and making his way downstairs. He went straight for the kitchen but something in the living room caught his eye. Frowning, he went into the room to find a large pile of presents under the tree that hadn’t been there the night before. His sleep-addled mind suggested Santa may have been to visit. He crouched down to look at the tags. _Dear, Harry. Merry Christmas. Your loving Draco… Dear Molly and Arthur. Season’s Greetings. Best and fondest wishes, Draco… Dear Pansy. Happy Christmas. All my love, Draco…_

Draco had woken when Harry kissed him and he followed him downstairs, watching from the doorway of the living room as Harry found the stack of presents under the tree.

“Morning,” Draco said after a moment. Harry straightened up, turning to look at him. “Is this the part where I say ‘Merry Christmas’?” Draco asked with a smile playing on his lips. A smile slowly started to form on Harry’s face, too, as he nodded. “Merry Christmas, then, Harry.”

“Merry Christmas, Draco.”

Draco crossed over to Harry, kissing his cheek. “Did you look outside yet?” he asked. Harry shook his head confusedly and Draco drew the curtains to reveal a blanket of snow across their front garden. 

“Oh my god!” Harry exclaimed. “I haven’t seen a white Christmas since Hogwarts,” he said, excitedly, as he watched the snow continue to fall steadily. Draco watched his reaction with amusement.

“I thought you might like it.”

Harry looked at Draco and said, “I love it.”

“I wish I could take credit for it if it’s made you this happy,” Draco commented. 

“Well, I’m thinking you’ve done some things to make me happy, too.”

“Such as?” 

“Well, the fact that you said ‘Merry Christmas’ to me, for a start. Also, might I ask what all this means?” Harry asked, gesturing to the rather large pile of gifts under the tree.

“Ah, that. Well, I realised something.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. I said that Christmas makes me think about my family, the fact that they don’t love me. I was stupid to say that, because my parents aren’t my family, not anymore. You are.” Draco paused for a moment to savour the smile on Harry’s face and the happiness in his eyes. “You’re my family now so I decided that, from now on, Christmas will be different. I will associate Christmas with my real family, the people who actually care about me, instead of my blood relatives. Christmas, now, is about you and I. It’s about Pansy and Joseph and my godchildren. It’s about Ron and Hermione and your godchildren, and all the Weasleys. It’s not about my parents. It’s not about me wallowing. It’s about remembering that I **am** loved. And loving.”

“Very loved and very loving,” Harry confirmed. Draco couldn’t help smiling and said,

“Do you think the Weasleys have room for one more at their dinner table?”

“I’m sure they do. They’ll be delighted to have you,” Harry said, kissing Draco firmly. Draco felt warmth fill his chest. He would have a family Christmas. It sounded rather nice, if he was honest with himself.

“Would you like a Christmas present, Harry?” he asked. 

“Yes, please,” Harry said, grinning. “Oh! Wait here. I’ll just be a minute,” he said, dashing out of the room and up the stairs. When he returned, he had his wand in one hand and a tiny red sack in the other. He enlarged the sack and tipped it upside down. A cascade of at least thirty presents fell onto the floor. Draco crouched down and looked through a few of them. They all had tags attached with his name on. He looked up at Harry, who looked a bit embarrassed. “It wouldn’t be fair if I was opening presents and you weren’t, would it?” Harry said. 

“Harry, there’s so much here.”

“I… I buy presents for you every year and put them away.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I suppose I always hoped something would happen to change your mind about Christmas.”

“I’m sorry it took this long.”

Harry smiled a heartfelt and genuine smile, saying, “We’ve got plenty of time to make up for it. We’ll just have to go all out for the next few years.”

“I can do that,” Draco said with a matching smile. He threw his arms around Harry’s neck, kissing him firmly. Harry pulled Draco tight against him, deepening the kiss for a few moments before pulling away and kissing Draco’s nose. Draco laughed and let Harry pull him onto the floor. And so, as they began to open their presents, the couple who had been together for almost five years began their first Christmas Day together. Draco felt the happiest he had done in a long time and Harry saw it written in his expression. It was only fair, Harry thought. After all, Harry was happy every day because of Draco – Christmas or not.

_fin_


End file.
